


Mating Games - Challenge rounds

by CydSA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F, Fairy dust made them do it, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, lack of preparation, mating games, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CydSA/pseuds/CydSA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets written for the Mating Games Challenge Rounds</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With the Fairy Dust (Entry #42)

**Author's Note:**

> When the fairy dust settled....

By the time the fairy dust dissipated, Scott had deep-throated Isaac, Lydia and Allison had made out in the rain, and Derek had fucked Stiles over about ten different surfaces around the house.

Nobody looked at anybody else.

Stiles raised a hand. “While I’m sure you’re all feeling the effects of the traumatic experiences you’ve gone through, let me just say that I may never walk normally again.”

Derek made a sort of whimpering noise into his jacket. He’d been hiding for a while now.

Scott’s eyes were still wide and horrified. “I’m sorry,” he said. Stiles wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Possibly all of them. 

The image of Isaac holding Scott’s head, fingers twisted in his hair as he thrust hard and fast into Scott’s mouth was fried onto Stiles’ brain. It should _not_ have been as hot as he’d found it.

“Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Allison assured him, her cheeks still rosy. “We were all just affected by the fairy dust.”

Lydia’s gaze was speculative. “I’m not so sure,” she mused.

Derek finally lifted his head, tips of his ears still bright red. Stiles would have been amused if he wasn’t aching in every part of his body. “What do you mean?” Derek asked, eyebrows looming dangerously. 

Stiles still felt Derek’s perfect, amazingly delicious cock pounding into him. His lips were numb and his ass was still sticky with come and on fire. He’d never felt better.

Lydia tapped a finger against her swollen lips. Stiles tried not to remember Allison’s tongue tangling with Lydia’s. It was a totally futile effort. Fucking hot is what it was. “Focus,” Lydia ordered Stiles. 

“Astound us with your wisdom, my goddess.” Stiles winced as his muscles twinged. Derek fucked like a werewolf and Stiles was going to feel it for days.

“You’re the moron who made the wish,” Lydia levelled a glare at him. “You understand that this is entirely your fault?”

“She was a pretty lady with red hair!” Stiles protested. “How was I supposed to know what she was up to?”

“Because bad shit happens all the time in Beacon Hills?” Isaac offered. He sat pressed up against Scott. 

Stiles wondered why Scott wasn’t all up in Allison’s space. But no, Lydia and Allison were holding hands, sharing the other chair. Derek, despite the jacket and the ears, was a long line of heat against Stiles’ side. 

Huh.

“What _exactly_ did you say to her?” Lydia asked.

Stiles frowned, trying to remember. “She asked me if I was happy here.”

“Oh god,” Derek made another small noise that was sort of pathetically adorable. Stiles’ patted his well-muscled thigh. Derek moved a little closer.

“And?” Lydia prompted. “What did you tell her? The words, Stiles.”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand. Derek’s big palm pushed his hand away, taking up the soothing motion. “I told her that I had the best friends in the world, and that we were all just one big happy family.” He blinked. “Uh.”

“What?” Lydia’s eyes were sharp.

“I may have actually said one big happy fucking family.” Stiles hunched over when five pairs of eyes zoomed in on him. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Derek’s voice was a low roar. “I’ve seen things I never want to remember, Stiles. I fucked you on the hood of my car, Stiles. And you say ‘Oops’?”

“Maybe she thought happy fucking family meant exactly that,” Allison tried to help. Stiles blew her a kiss.

“Well,” Scott’s tone was thoughtful. “I didn’t _not_ enjoy it.” He cleared his throat. “It was actually really, pretty good.” He blushed a little as he sneaked a peek at Isaac, who had gone starry-eyed. Literally.

“I wouldn’t say no,” Allison admitted, squeezing Lydia’s hand. “I mean, if it happened again.”

Derek flinched when Stiles leaned closer. “And you big guy, you down with having all of this all the time?” He waved a hand up and down his own body.

“I hate everything,” Derek told them, and pounced. 

It seemed to be the signal they were all waiting for. Scott lunged for Isaac, fingers scrabbling at his jeans. Lydia swung her leg over Allison’s and pressed the wettest kiss Stiles had ever seen onto her mouth.

If Stiles had seen it, that is. 

His vision was filled with Derek’s stupid face as he wrapped his big hand around their cocks, and gave them their own version of happily ever after.


	2. The One with the Wolfy Behaviour (Entry #6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek was kinda vanilla. Except when he wasn't

Surprisingly, Derek was the vanilla one in the relationship, once he finally got his head out of his ass.

Stiles wanted to try _everything_.

The first time Stiles waggled the nipple clamps at Derek, he wondered if he’d maybe actually asked for bondage, including whips and chains. 

Derek looked at Stiles; all wounded eyes and clenched jaw.

He came hard and long about a second after Stiles licked around the first nipple. 

Stiles nobly resisted saying, “I told you so, dude.”

When Stiles brought a remote controlled vibrator home, Derek refused point-blank. There may actually have been a “Fuck you, Stiles. That will _never_ go into my ass.”

He howled, his mouth tight around Stiles’ cock, as the vibrator drilled into him from behind.

When Stiles asked Derek to knot him, Derek fled, hiding out in the preserve for two days until Scott and Isaac tracked him down , dragging him home.

He arrived back and roared in fury, smelling sex and come over almost every surface in the house. Only some of it was Stiles’.

“What the fuck has been going on here?” Derek spun in circles, desperate to find Stiles.

“Um,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well….”

Isaac bravely spoke up, “Stiles had a party.”

Scott crossed his arms defensively when Derek leveled a red-eyed Alpha glare at him. “You ran away.” He stopped speaking.

“So?” Derek prompted when it looked like Scott wasn’t going say anything else.

“Stiles wanted to know what a werewolf knot looks like,” Isaac explained.

Scott shoved him. “Dude!” He did some sort of complicated eyebrow thing that Derek had no idea how to translate.

“He wanted a demonstration,” Isaac continued defiantly.

“Oh fuck.” Scott started backing away when Derek growled at Isaac. 

“We just showed him!” Isaac added, ducking behind Scott.

Derek stopped growling. “You _showed_ him?”

Both betas nodded. “Totally for scientific purposes,” Scott assured him. 

The side-eye from Isaac made Derek want to laugh. Scott was beyond clueless sometimes.

“Where is Stiles?” Derek asked again. 

Scott waved towards the stairs. “He said he was going to have a nap.”

Derek took the stairs two at a time. He was going to have to teach Stiles a lesson about werewolf possessiveness.

Stiles was naked in Derek’s bed. He lay on his stomach, one arm beneath a pillow, face smashed into the feathered softness.

Derek traced the line of the triskele on Stiles’ shoulder, smiling at the memory of watching the ink branding Stiles’ skin, marking him as Derek’s own.

“Finished being a wuss?” Stiles’ voice was muffled by the pillow, but Derek could hear him just fine.

“Shut up,” Derek ordered. Surprisingly, Stiles did.

Derek ran his hand down Stiles’ back, into the dip of his spine, the curve of his ass. When he touched Stiles’ hole he found it loose, wet, open. “You’ve been playing with other boys?” He could barely speak through the sudden drop of his teeth.

“Playing with other toys,” Stiles corrected him.

Every instinct ordered Derek to take, rut, breed, possess. He stripped quickly, wanting his skin on Stiles’ so that the scent of anyone else would vanish.

He rubbed himself all along Stiles’ back, relishing in the low whine that started in Stiles’ throat. He nipped at skin wherever he could reach, pleased with the bright red bite marks that signaled his ownership.

He notched his cock between Stiles’ ass cheeks, rocking as he felt the lube coat his dick. Stiles’ breathing was harsh and quick. Derek reached between their bodies and tested Stiles’. The lovely slick give of his body made Derek want to howl.

He didn’t wait. He couldn’t. He pushed into Stiles in a long, slow glide, taking care not to push too hard, too fast. Stiles gasped, lifting his hips, pressing eagerly back against Derek.

Derek wanted to fuck. He wanted to ram himself so hard into Stiles that his mate wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Instead, he kept his movements deliberate and measured. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep control for too long.

He felt his knot swell, catching sweetly at Stiles’ rim every time he pulled out. Stiles moaned at the feeling of fullness. Derek couldn’t hear pain so he carried on until he couldn’t move any more.

Locked together, Derek rocked against Stiles in a lazy rhythm that didn’t falter until they both eventually fell asleep.

Turns out Derek wasn’t so vanilla after all.


	3. The One with the PTSD (Entry #5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles saves Derek. In several ways

Of course Stiles was the one who found him. Strung up in silver, skin carved open with malice and wolfsbane, Derek thought perhaps he was already dead. Every nerve ending was lit up as though burning from the inside.

“I’ve got you.” Stiles gripped him around his middle, took his weight and yelled for the pack.

“Don’t touch me,” Derek whispered, voice hoarse with screaming.

“I’ve got you.” Stiles repeated the words into his throat until the others came.

Derek healed slowly, skin soon unblemished once more. The damage was in his soul though. The marks Kate left on him healed. It was the memory of her touch that haunted him.

He flinched when anyone came too close. Growled, snarled, pushed them away.

Stiles _wouldn’t_ go away.

Derek woke up, several times, to Stiles wrapped around him, arms and legs encasing him in a cocoon as though he was going to keep the world away from him.

“Don’t touch me,” he would whisper, voice rough with fear.

“Shut up,” Stiles would tell him, rubbing his face into Derek’s neck. “I’m not her.”

“I know.” He allowed Stiles to stay.

This morning was different. Derek froze when Stiles pushed his t-shirt up, rested his palm on the quivering flesh of his abdomen. “Stop.”

“No.” Stiles ran his hand up Derek’s torso and back down again. “I’m not going to stop. I’m sick of thinking about her hands on you. I’m going to wipe out every memory of her touch.”

He shuffled down on the bed, hot breath on Derek’s skin. Derek shivered. _She’d_ done that before she’d sliced into him with silver and delight.

Stiles pushed his shirt up further, pressed a tender kiss to Derek’s sternum. Right between his ribs where his heart beat strong and frantic. He lifted his gaze, looking right into Derek’s eyes. “You okay?”

Derek made a wet sound. “No.”

Stiles moved his mouth to one nipple, sucking softly, carefully. Derek couldn’t stop the noise escaping.

“Good?” Stiles moved slowly across to the other nipple, lavished it with the same care and attention. Derek fought to keep his body still. She’d liked it when she’d managed to coax an unwilling response.

“No,” Derek lied.

“Liar,” Stiles’ smile was a brand against his abdomen. He pushed a hand into Derek’s sweatpants, rubbed his thumb over the tip of Derek’s cock. “She’s not here.”

He pressed his face against Derek’s belly, cheek soft as silk, hot as iron. Derek shuddered when he turned and licked the muscles across his torso. “Don’t hurt me.” Derek thought that perhaps this time he _was_ praying.

“You need this from me, to heal.” Stiles’ murmured, lips following tongue up and down the expanse of Derek’s abdomen and belly. His fingers wrapped around Derek’s cock, keeping up a rhythm that Derek’s hips were unable to resist.

“Please.” Derek wasn’t sure what he was asking for. Release. Forgiveness. She had taken so much.

“She will never touch you again.” Stiles spoke his vow into Derek’s stomach, breath burning as he kissed every inch of golden skin. “You’re mine. You’re ours.”

“Yes,” Derek groaned, finally starting to believe. “Yours.” Stiles’ hand moved faster, stripping Derek’s cock in unhurried, careful movements, eyes steady on Derek’s.

“You are my alpha. I am yours.” Stiles repeated the words the pack had exchanged before She took him.

“I am your alpha, you are mine.” Derek responded as his body surged beneath Stiles’ mouth and hands.

“I will _never_ not find you.” Stiles kept up his pace, saw Derek’s breath hitch, hips stutter.

“I believe you.” Derek met his amber gaze, let Stiles’ magic wash over him, drench his battered soul.

“Good.” Stiles’ smile was a benediction. “Now, come for me.” He twisted his wrist, at the same time licking a long, damp line from the tip of Derek’s cock to the dip at his throat, all the while watching Derek’s face.

Derek kept his eyes locked with Stiles’ and obeyed. They smiled softly at one another as Derek’s heartbeat settled slowly.

“She’s dead.” Stiles gave him this final gift. “Scott and Chris found her. Ended it.”

Derek watched him silently for a moment. Then, “Thank you.”

Stiles shrugged propping his chin on Derek’s chest. “Eh, I just showed them the way.”

Derek shook his head. “You found me.” He reached up to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “You saved me.”

Stiles turned his head to press a kiss into Derek’s palm. “Always,” he promised.

And Derek believed.


	4. The One with Void!Stiles (entry #39)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Void!Stiles makes an unsettling discovery

Void stared in the mirror. He wasn’t looking well. He looked at his hands. They were translucent. He could see right through the skin and bone down to the boy lying on the bed.

He lifted a finger and poked at his cheek. Humanity was made of such fragile stuff. Flesh and blood damaged so easily. The skin gave a little, blood pooling into the paleness, and then vanishing again.

He attempted a smile. It had been this failing that had not convinced the boy’s mortal friends that he was not their companion. He tilted his head to one side. The unnatural stretch of lip over enamel made him grimace. The need for such frivolity was beyond him.

The boy groaned, moved in his sleep. It was only while he slept that Void could manifest. The boy was too strong when awake. That would have to be remedied.

He rubbed a hand across his belly, fingers dipping into the soft cotton pants slung low on his hips. This part of the human body he liked. The building sensation of anticipation, and then the explosion of seed and musk.

He knew that the boy looked. He looked at the girl with hair like the sun, dreamed of fucking into her until she screamed. He looked at the boy with the burnished curls and damaged heart, wanted to fuck him until he forgot his fears. He looked at the man with the hard jaw and terrified eyes, desperate to bend over and let him do whatever he wanted.

So much desire unfulfilled was exactly what Void fed on, what nourished him. The boy was stuffed so full with lust and terror that it was like an unending banquet.

The window slid open and the wolf leapt in. His eyes flashed red when he spotted Void. “Get the fuck out of here!” His claws flexed in preparation.

“I can’t,” Void smirked, waved towards the bed. “I’m part of him.”

The wolf stepped between Void and the boy. “We’re close to finding a way to destroy you.”

His posturing made Void laugh softly. “You cannot kill me without killing him.” They still hadn’t learned.

“We’re going to do it,” the wolf sounded sure.

Void felt the first stirrings of fear. An unnatural trickle of ice down his spine. It was unprecedented and unwelcome. “You won’t succeed.” He hated that he sounded so unsure.

“We will.” The boy’s voice was sleep-rough and certain. He was pale, the constant war within against Void having taken a toll.

“You can’t.” Void watched the wolf curl around the boy, his unnaturally hot skin forming a barrier between Void and his host.

“Don’t you know?” The boy sounded scornful, as though Void had missed the entire purpose of his existence.

“Know what?” Void asked, curious at this first exchange between them. It shouldn’t have been possible, this boy talking to him as though he was a separate being. Void was part of the boy. Would never be other.

“I have magic,” the boy whispered as though a secret. “I am a spark.”

Void felt the ice speeding through his veins. When he had possessed this boy, there had been nothing of magic. Just desire and desperation coursing though him in torrents.

“Not possible.” Void said it as though merely his will could make it so.

“But true nonetheless,” the boy said, suddenly years older in Void's eyes.

The icicles that were forming inside Void's veins suddenly coalesced, solidified in the most terrifying way.

“You're the truth,” he said, sure of it all.

“Yes,” the boy replied. “I'm truth to your lies, light to your night, freedom to your captivity.”

Void was felt despair for the first time. “You need me.” He knew this to be true.

The boy grabbed on to the wolf, held him close. “No.” He was certain. “I only need _him_.”

Void felt the winter calling him. He could return any time.

“No.” The boy smiled softly. “You are done now. I win.”

Void pressed a little, tested the bond be'd formed. It was guarded at his soul by a red-eyed wolf. “I'll return,” he promised.

“We'll be waiting,” the boy said, eyes intent on the wolf in his arms.

Void felt the chains fall away, once more released into darkness.

He watched the boy and his wolf fade away, the light fading as he passed beyond.

The boy was his. The boy was him. The boy was the wolf's. Void tried to understand.


	5. The One with Stiles being a Werewolf (Entry #49)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Stiles had accepted the bite from Peter. Why would he?

Derek can hear Stiles' heartbeat about a mile before he actually comes up the rotting stairs into the house. 

He frowns. 

There's something off. Something _not_ Stiles. 

“What did you do?” Derek growls.

Stiles stares at him. He's still in a way that Stiles is never still. It makes Derek nervous.

“I did what any smart person would do.” Stiles lifts his chin, meets Derek's eyes defiantly. Always defiantly.

Just then, Stiles' scent hits Derek. This weird combination of spice and sweat and Stiles and yet...

“What have you done?” Derek breathes. He knows though. Before Stiles says another word, he knows.

“Peter says hi,” Stiles smiles at him. Waits as if for praise.

Derek feels everything inside him freeze. He grabs Stiles, rips up his shirt to expose his hip, but no bite. He wants to breathe a sigh of relief but he knows.

He knows.

“Here,” Stiles offers his wrist, palm turned up. 

Derek wants to howl. The bite is already yellowing at the edges, teeth marks fading as he watches.

“Why?” He needs Stiles to tell him. To make him understand.

“Peter says I’ll make an excellent wolf.” Stiles watches Derek, amber gold eyes gleaming.

“You said you didn’t want to be like Scott.” Derek is holding onto hope like a tangible thing.

“I’ll _never_ be like Scott.” Stiles stares at him. 

“Then why?” Derek’s fingers tighten around Stiles’ wrist. He doesn’t miss the sudden sharp breath Stiles takes.

“You.” Stiles’ mouth curves in a smile. “I did it for you.”

Derek feels his heart punch in his chest. Too much. Too much. “No.” He’s sure.

“Yes.” Stiles is even more sure. “You wouldn’t touch the human. Not after Kate.” He steps closer, scent wrapping around Derek like a wolf’s pelt. “But you _will_ touch the wolf.”

Derek swallows hard. Stiles has always been desirable. Stiles with his pale skin, lush mouth and long neck has been a part of Derek’s dreams for months now. 

“You were never meant for this life,” he whispers, feeling a little like shattered glass.

“Maybe not.” Stiles shrugs. He’s pressed up tight against Derek now, the wolf already bringing his body temperature up to scalding. “But I think I was always meant for you.”

Derek will worry about the morality of this later, once he’s slaked his thirst for this beautiful boy.

For now though, he leans in, takes Stiles’ mouth in a kiss just the wrong side of painful.

Stiles opens up, lets him in and Derek is lost.

When he rips Stiles’ shirts from his shoulders, Derek wonders if his uncle intended this. Peter had always looked at Stiles with a little too much…everything.

Stiles is almost silent as he wrestles with Derek’s jeans. The quick pants that escape him are aphrodisiacs to Derek’s ears. The knowledge that Stiles wants him, enough to become something he purports to hate, is overwhelming.

“Stop.” It physically pains Derek to give the order.

Stiles growls at him and Derek shudders. “Why?” It’s Stiles’ turn to ask.

“I want you to be sure.” Derek knows that wolves mate for life. . He knows that if he takes Stiles now, it will be forever.

Stiles snorts. “Dude, I took the bite from asshole Uncle Peter so that I could be with you. I think I’m pretty fucking sure.”

Derek pushes Stiles to the ground then, lost to the animal that shares his body. He shreds Stiles’ jeans and shoves into him with no warning. The high yip of pain makes him freeze. “Oh god.” He feels sick.

Stiles’ fingers yank at his hair. “Don’t you _dare_ stop, you dick.” Stiles’ eyes are clear and determined. “I need to feel you inside me for days.”

He knows that he isn’t going to let anything take Stiles away. He’ll kill before that happens. He hardens inside Stiles until he feels his knot swell.

It’s then that he knows.

He’s born to be the alpha. Stiles, his mate.

“I’m going to have to kill Peter,” he murmurs against the gorgeous line of Stiles’ neck.

“Okay,” Stiles clenches around him, arms and legs and body holding him in a vice of flesh. “I’ll help.”


	6. The One with Stiles in a Corset (entry #20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles makes Derek an offer he can't refuse.

Derek answered the doorbell. He was in jeans and barefoot, putting the last of the dishes away. It was late, almost nine and he wasn’t expecting anyone.

Certainly not Stiles.

In a red cloak, with a hood pulled over his head.

“Trick or treat?” Stiles’ eyes twinkled and Derek wanted to respond to the mischief.

“It’s not Halloween,” he pointed out.

“Treat it is then.” Stiles pushed past him into the apartment, cloak swishing around his legs.

Derek closed the door, leaned back against it and folded his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles turned around slowly, the cloak fastened shut all the way to the floor. “Giving you a choice.”

Derek raised one eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“Do _you_ want to be the one who fucks me first or should I go out and find someone willing?” 

Derek froze at the words. Stiles started pulling at the cloak, snaps popping open as he tugged. The scarlet fabric slid to the floor and Stiles stood in front of him.

Derek was moving before his brain caught up, on his knees, his mouth on the vulnerable skin between the top of the stockings and the edge of the leather corset. 

Stiles staggered back, sucking in a gasp as Derek bit at his skin, hands coming up and shaping his ass. “So I’m taking that as a yes?” Stiles asked when Derek pushed him against the side of the sofa.

“Shut up.” Derek’s growl was feral, the wolf so close to the surface that it was scratching him bloody from the inside.

He pulled at the panties cupping Stiles’ cock and balls. He was salivating as he tugged them down. He barely noticed the stilettos as Stiles lifted first one foot and then the other. 

He wasn’t sure who moaned the loudest when he put the sopping wet fabric in his mouth. The taste of Stiles exploded, hitting his lizard brain, announcing that this was mate, home, forever. _HIS_

He felt Stiles’ fingers in his hair, tugging hard as Derek ran a hand back up one long, slim leg to heft the weight of Stiles’ balls in the palm of his hand.

“God, fuck, Derek, god.” Stiles stumbled again, and Derek manhandled him towards the bedroom. He pushed Stiles in front of him, eyes locked to the curve of his ass as he wobbled in the ridiculous shoes. 

Stiles faltered as the heel of one stiletto caught on the edge of the carpet. Derek grabbed him, shoved him face-first against the door and fell to his knees again.

He rubbed his face over the leather corset, let his hands run up and down the fishnet stockings and snapping the garter ties so that Stiles jerked in his grasp.

“Please,” Stiles begged so prettily as Derek spread his ass cheeks. Stiles’ hole was glistening and loose.

“You prepped yourself?” Derek could barely speak. His cock was like iron in his jeans.

“Boy scout.” Stiles trembled. For all his bravado, he was still a virgin. Derek wanted to take his time with him.

“Let’s take care of this.” Derek drove his tongue into the musky heat of Stiles’ body without warning. The yell that followed made him smile into Stiles’ skin.

“You’re _such_ an asshole.” Stiles was almost sobbing. Derek reached round him to wrap his fingers around Stiles’ cock.

Derek sucked at Stiles’ hole as he tugged on his dick. The combined stimulation sent Stiles shuddering.

“Fuck you. I’m not ready to come yet!” Stiles practically snarled at him.

Derek ignored him, pushing a finger into Stiles alongside his tongue. Stiles howled, arching up and back in one long, lovely line. 

The heels made Stiles’ legs seem endless. The corset cinched in his waist, fooled the wolf into thinking that this pretty boy would be perfect for breeding. 

He turned Stiles once more, stared up at him as he fed Stiles' cock into his mouth. Stiles’ mouth dropped open as he watched. 

While he occupied Stiles with the sight in front of him, Derek sneaked his finger back into Stiles’ hole, pressing deep and true. He crooked it slightly, felt the give of flesh as Stiles jerked and came hot and bitter down his throat.

Stiles shuddered as Derek let him slip from between his teeth. “What big teeth you have, alpha.” 

Always with the cocky comeback Derek thought.

“All the better to eat you with, Little Red.” 

Derek let Stiles see the wolf behind his eyes and pounced.


End file.
